Page:Australian and Other Poems.djvu/93

No mountain swain, no care to brutes I lend;
No clownish swain, nor droves or herds I tend.
Thou knowest not, timid, whom thy footsteps shun,
Else hadst thou ceased to fear and ceased to run.
The Delphic shrine and Clarion altars groan
With gifts to me, their incense clouds my throne.
The Ægean Tenedos admits my sway;
My sceptre, too, the Lycian realms obey,
My sire, he who rules the gods' array.
At my behest the books of fate unroll;
Charmed by my touch the lyre inspires the soul;
My arrow's certain in its airy course;
But one more certain, and of deadlier force.
Has pierced with painful wound my hapless heart,
'Till now unmoved by Cupid's direful art.
The laws of physic owe to me their birth,
I'm called the healer through the extended earth;
In sweet and grateful herbs the charms that lie
To me alone 'tis given to descry.
Alas! that herbs to love no cure afford.
And arts that all do bless, bless not their lord.